


the walk

by lilac_girlie



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, POV Nick, POV Second Person, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 16:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30058152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilac_girlie/pseuds/lilac_girlie
Summary: in which greg finds nick out at lake mead after returning from a friend's funeral outside of vegas; in which nick tries to be there, tries to hold back his own complicated hurt, but greg is so distant, hiding something. they take a walk; they try to come together again.i feel like walking / do you feel like coming? / i feel like talking cause / it's been a long time ~ soko, first love never die
Relationships: Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes
Kudos: 1





	the walk

**Author's Note:**

> repost, with edits, from fanfiction.net
> 
> 2nd person, nick's pov
> 
> part 1/3

we walked along the shore of lake mead. the water was still, black glass stretching to the horizon. an occasional gust of wind created rippling waves that glinted in the moonlight. just us, the sand beneath our feet, and reflections of nothingness. 

you looked over your shoulder at the crime scene behind us: flashing police lights, headlights of patrol cars. all that light slowly fading as we moved further and further away from the scene. you scuffed your feet against the wet soil beneath us, looked up: the stars were few and far between, covered by grey clouds moving slowly across the sky. 

i walked with my hand pressed against the small of your back, guiding you forward. the air stifled us; the sky promised rain. the desert was dangerous tonight. 

you were cast in shadows, smokey and dull in the pale moonlight. i had never seen a man wear a suit in the desert, and yet here you were. your blazer, silhouetted against the lake like a black cape, made you hard and unreachable. cold as stone.

the sight was as strange as the situation:

you’d appeared at my crime scene suddenly. i hadn’t expected you to drive up in your little jetta, didn’t know you were back in vegas. you stepped out of the car looking haunted and harsh in the bright police lights. your black suit dragged you into the earth. 

_ hey,  _ you said with a crooked smile, sounding even worse than you looked. 

_ hey _ , i reached up towards you then let my hand drift down again.  _ when did you get back?  _

_ couple hours ago,  _ with a faint smile. 

i just barely suppressed a wince, knowing you’d resent any expression worse than neutral.  _ you came here straight from the airport?  _

you rubbed the back of your neck and mumbled,  _ stopped home, got my car.  _

but you didn’t change, i thought but didn't dare to say, from the looks of it, not since the funeral this afternoon. i reached out to touch you at last, straightening the lapels of your blazer. 

you sighed with your whole body, and let your head drop to your chest. you stared at my hands.

_ you on shift?  _ i murmured.

you stood up straighter.  _ nope _ .

i jerked my head in the direction of the crime scene and said,  _ let's go _ .

we slipped under the tape and i got to work. you stood idly by, arms across your chest, head to the side, watching.

_ you missed a blood drop over there _ , you muttered, pointing it out to me. i was on my hands and knees in the dirt, while you towered above me. something like frustration built in my chest. 

_ thanks _ , i mumbled, swabbing the drop. i sat back on my heels.  _ wanna run it? _

you frowned and wrapped your arms around you tighter,  _ no. _

i sighed and snapped off my gloves.  _ okay. let's go for a walk. _

so here we were: walking along the shore of lake mead.

_ how was the funeral? _

_ nice enough, i guess,  _ your eyes didn’t meet mine.  _ her brother… spoke.  _ you went quiet. i stepped in front of you, forcing you to stop walking. my hands hovered over your elbows, just barely touching. your gaze didn’t leave the ground.  _ i guess it didn’t hit me till i heard him talk about her, ya know? i didn’t - didn’t expect her to just die like that.  _

you glanced at me, expecting some sort of reply, but i had nothing to say. you were watching me, looking for something in my expression, something you couldn’t find. i didn’t know what you wanted to see, how to show it to you. i would give it to you, if i only knew what it was. you turned away. 

_ she used to wear her brother's t-shirts. i didn't know that, _ you said at last, walking again, faster than before. 

for a moment, my legs were frozen and i just watched you go. fuck. what did she mean to you? 

i found my feet again, and continued after you. but my heart settled into my stomach, a rock falling soundlessly into a bottomless pool of water. i felt pretty bad about it, and even though i didn't want to think it, it thought it:

had you fucked her?

\---

this whole thing started, really, because russell couldn’t give us both time off. we’d hoped for a couple days, enough time to fly out to the funeral and back. we’d hoped to go together. but russell reminded us gently, remorsefully, that morgan and finn were already out of town for a conference, that day shift was down a csi as well. 

you were sitting across russell's desk. your hands were clenched and pressed hard against your thighs, but other than that you seemed surprisingly relaxed. i was restless, couldn’t sit. stood behind you, gripping the back of your chair. 

_ you're sayin' we can't go? _ i tried to keep the anger out of my voice. you still seemed so calm, though i couldn’t see your face.

_ okay _ , russell said.  _ okay, im sorry. i think i could spare one of you.  _

and though it was a concession, there was something cruel in having to choose, to weigh up who belonged where, who belonged here in vegas, who belonged there in her life; who  _ had _ belonged, all along, in her life. 

_ you go _ ,  _ greg, _ i said pushing back from your chair and turning away. i was unable to keep the emotion from my voice, more accented than usual.  _ you knew her better.  _

you looked up at me, bit your lip.  _ okay _ , you breathed into a sigh. you stood, wiped your hands on your thighs and didn’t look at me.  _ thanks, boss.  _

_ how did she die? _ russell asked, not unkindly. 

_ some bastard slit her throat, _ i said, my voice gruff with unshed tears, enough for both you and russell to notice. you turned your whole body away from me. 

_ you gonna be okay?  _ russell asked, and i smiled, nodded, whatever it took for him to let it go. 

russell glanced at you, but you were staring at the wall.  _ she was a friend of yours? _ he asked. you didn't react.

_ yea _ , i said,  _ riley adams. she worked at csi with us _ . 

you let out a soft, slow breath when i said her name. your breathing said more to me than your carefully blank expression, your quiet, still body. when did you get so quiet, g, why didn't i notice how much you've changed?  __

you didn't say a word about her, which was fitting, i suppose, for how quickly she entered, changed, and left our lives. 

\--

we found a tree while walking. a spindly desert willow, it's pink flowers bright in the moonlight but it's bark dark and sinister. you sank to the ground beneath it, tucking long legs up to your chest. i watched the shadows of its leaves and branches play across your face. then i sighed, gave in, sat down next to you, my dear friend.

more sure of myself, i rested my hand between your shoulder blades, warmth seeping through your clothes, lean muscle as you shifted beneath my touch. from this close, i could smell you, the sick smell of the airplane clinging to your clothes, but beneath it your cologne. faint but familiar, soothing. i took in your smell and the eternal smell of the desert night. 

i leaned back, relaxed a little. i felt calm now, the uneasy shadowy feeling seeping out of me. 

_ sam missed ya, you know? _ i said after much thought. it was the safest and sweetest and truest thing i could think of saying. 

and i must have said something right because you turned to face me and smiled, really smiled.  _ yea _ ? 

_ mmhm _ , i was smiling freely now.  _ friday night he waited for you by my front door for twenty minutes _ ,  _ right about the time you usually come over. _

a soft smile lingered on your face as you looked at me. i wanted to hold your hand, run my fingers through your hair, but i felt there had to be some limits to my sentimentality. but you looked so sad, so i leaned forward, touched your cheek and kissed you lightly, tenderly. it was an ordinary kiss, perhaps not fit for a reunion. it could have been harder, longer, more beautiful, the way i was used to kissing you. instead it was barely there at all. 

when i pulled back your gaze was affectionate but distant.  _ do you wanna _ , you hesitated, _ … go for a swim?  _

my fingers on your cheek faltered, twitched. it was all you said, all that remained of our kiss, our separation, our grief.  _ i'm on shift,  _ my voice drifted, faded. it sounded unlike me, far away and dissociated from real life. 

but then, as though i hadn't spoken, you slowly and systematically stripped. you stood, stretched, stared out at the water. and i watched… unnoticed, i watched. 

you shrugged off your jacket, a smooth, careful roll of your shoulders that was somehow both careless and forced. you let it drop to the ground. as you loomed over me, i felt my jaw tighten, my shoulders creep up to my ears. you'd grown into your body over the many years i knew you, and now you looked almost old as you ducked your chin to your chest and slowly unbuttoned your shirt. i stared at your hair lying limp across your forehead, at your nose and lips and down to your fingers as they played with the buttons. and finally at the sliver of hard chest and smooth skin that showed through the open shirt. 

the skin across your shoulders stretched as you pulled of the shirt; a stretch i was familiar with now that i knew your scars, your micromovements, your freckles so well. 

i watched your shirt as you tossed it to the ground, as it landed in a mess near my hand. close enough to touch. i kept my gaze down, on your shirt, as you toed off your shoes, yanked off your socks. as your slacks hit the ground, as your slim ankles stepped out of them. your belt, unbuckled, still in the loops of your trousers. i thought of how you'd taken to wearing these formal clothes at work now, thought of the days id kissed the corner of your mouth and fastened your belt for you. the pain in my chest was growing, and i tried not to be angry.

when i dared to look up, you were already halfway out to the lake, your silhouette sleek against the light of the moon. you walked steadily into the shimmering, dark lake, sank in, head back as you stared at the sky and the stars and the distance beyond.

i thought about joining you, slipping into the cool water, smooth sand, touching your sweet skin.

but there was the crime scene, of course, and work, and the dead body. there was the steady pain in my chest, and riley's funeral, and your calculated composure. i rubbed my face, and folded your clothes carefully and tried to breathe.

i began walking back, stopping to stare at your footprints in the sand. i thought about how small those footprints were, how small you and i were, next to our little crime scene. i looked up at the great vast sky, and out into the distance at the big city lights and felt small and sick inside.

i walked alone along the shore of lake mead, the pain in my chest mounting. the crime scene grew nearer and nearer, and with it, life resumed, and i left you behind: you, greg, in the lake, the pain washing off you with the water, while i walked alone along the shore of lake mead.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading  
> chapter 2 soon  
> please comment if you liked it :)


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